The tavern is small, dismally lit. Longshoremen hunch over low mounds of cheap food. Sailors' thumbs hook the edges of plates in memory of meals tossed by waves. The earthy smells of tripe, dried cod, and chickpeas mingle with the tang of sweat. Renzo takes a small table in the back. The barman delivers a bottle of grappa and two small glasses. (131).

"Jews are simply members of the human race." After a thoughtful pause, Renzo adds, "I can think of no worse insult." (135)

Schramm shakes his head "I never understood the logic. You're Communists to a man, but you own all the banks. You're subhuman, but you're running the world." Renzo leans over the table. "Never underestimate how soothing it is to have someone else to blame. If Jews didn't exist, someone would have to invent us. "Oh I don' t know," Schramm says judiciously. "There's always the...